A Few Quiet Moments Part I
by SirenStreak
Summary: REPOST. England 1749. Duncan meets an Immortal who is not all she seems. A few quite moments away from the Game, so no heads roll in this one. Stars Mac, Fitz, Amanda, Methos, and a few of my own creation .
1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

_Norwich, Norfolk_

_February 1749_

_Dear Ben,_

_Finally we learn the real reason for my position with the Roberts family and especially why they were so interested in my sword and fighting skills during my interview: Lord Roberts has been ordered to Glasgow, where he is to head a battalion of soldiers to "keep the peace". I think we both know what that means…_

_His family is going with him and, as the children's governess (and unspoken bodyguard), I must go too. Yet again I am to witness firsthand the oppression of a nation – or at least a part of one – and not be able to do anything about it. My heart breaks just thinking about it. Time for the quiet life, I think, somewhere no one can find me. _

_We leave Norwich in seven days' time. We will travel to Houghton Hall near King's Lynn, to visit with friends of Lord Roberts for three weeks. Then we will go on to London, where we will board a ship to Edinburgh. From there we will go to Glasgow by carriage. That is as much of our itinerary as I have been told._

_M., do whatever you think is necessary and please come as fast as you can!_

_With all my heart's love,_

_Rachel_

***

**Disclaimer**: As much as I'd like to, I don't own the characters as seen in Highlander the series or the Highlander movies. In this fic those would be Duncan, Methos, Fitzcairn, Amanda, and Connor (mentioned in conversation).


	2. Chapter 2

_Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift._

-- Unknown

**CHAPTER 1**

**1749**

**HOUGHTON HALL, NORFOLK**

It was eerie, walking through the empty corridors of the manor house, mere floors above the ballroom. Sounds from the ball drifted upstairs – laughter, music – all of it breaking the silence that surrounded Duncan MacLeod. It all sounded faraway and alien, as if coming from another world entirely. It did nothing to dispel Duncan's grim mood.

He was the Highlander, after all, of the clan MacLeod. And here he was in an English nobleman's home, about to attend a ball hosted by said English nobleman – well, not _really _a nobleman, but close enough to be one… Add to that the fact that Duncan had saved said English nobleman's life two months earlier, and then ended up making friends with him…

Duncan was sure that the spirits of his ancestors were around him, about to take human form to punish him properly…

In terms of a choice between hell – this ball – and a worse hell – fighting another Immortal – Duncan would have happily taken his chances with the Kurgan.

But there was no stopping this. Tonight's ball was being held in Duncan's honour. It was his own fault. He had saved the man from freezing to death, after all…

**1749 – 2 MONTHS EARLIER**

It was well past nightfall and as dark as pitch. There was no moon – banks of clouds had filled the sky for most of the day, blocking most of the light and the warmth that the sun might have provided. Duncan was relieved that he had a lamp to light his way; was even happier about his thick hooded cloak – though it wasn't snowing or raining, it was still damn cold! His teeth chattered if he so much as paid too much attention to the sound of the frozen ground crunching beneath his feet. He followed the iced-over, tree-flanked country lane doggedly, refusing to look at his snow-covered surroundings.

He was on his way to meet Fitz in Fakenham, a market town just north of where he was now. He couldn't wait to get there, and hoped that Fitz had found an inn for them that included a roaring fire and a bottle of scotch…

Then an unexpected sound reached his ears: A weird sound that wasn't quite a moan or a groan, but definitely the sound of some creature in pain. It came from somewhere ahead.

Hand on the hilt of his sword, Duncan walked forward, his lamp lifted high, his brown eyes scanning the area warily. He didn't sense the presence of another Immortal, but that didn't mean much in a time when roadside banditry was the order of the day…

Finally the lamp's light fell on the shape of a man lying in a deep bank of snow beside the road. His legs were spread-eagled, both bent at strange angles. Even Duncan's untrained eyes could see that they were broken. The man's eyes were closed, his face tinged with blue. It was obvious that he had been lying there for a while, even without taking the thin layer of snow that covered him.

A horse lay nearby, its hind quarters also lying at a weird angle. Unlike its owner, the horse was still conscious. It had long since given up on struggling to its feet, but it didn't stop groaning as the pain streaked through its body.

Duncan had a very good idea about what had happened: Something spooked the horse; it reared and threw its rider. Then it somehow lost its balance and crashed down on the man, breaking both their legs in the fall. God only knew how long the man had been lying there…

Duncan didn't hesitate. He put down the lamp, drew his flintlock pistol and loaded it with bullets and gunpowder. He put the barrel to the horse's forehead and pulled the trigger, putting it out of its misery. The horse's weird pain-filled moaning stopped instantly.

Putting away the pistol, Duncan turned his attention back to the man who lay beside the road. It didn't matter that the man was dressed as a nobleman or that he might be English; he was unconscious and unable to help himself. There was nothing much Duncan could do. He took off his own cloak, laid it over the man, then rolled the man over onto his stomach, wrapping the cloak around him as he did so. Ignoring the cold that suddenly bit into him, Duncan hoisted the man's body across his shoulders. A moment passed during which he struggled to adjust his balance accordingly. Then he picked up the lamp again and, muttering curses under his breath, he continued down the road, hoping that he would be able to carry the man all the way to Fakenham without freezing to death himself...

**1749 – HOUGHTON HALL**

So now Duncan wore his best suit of clothes – a white shirt with ruffles down the front; the suit of dark green velvet; his sword carefully hidden in his matching coat. He looked nothing like the wild Highlander who had been banished from Glenfinnan years before. He had been tamed somewhat – bathed, shaved, suited, his curly hair tied back in a neat ponytail in the nape of his neck. Connor would have been proud, but he was off somewhere in Europe and had no idea of what Duncan was up to.

Duncan had battled to justify his actions to himself later. He'd saved the life of an Englishman, a nobleman at that! He had been absolutely horrified about it, felt like a complete traitor to his clan and people. It didn't help that the nobleman's family refused to let him leave Houghton Hall until the man had fully recovered. Duncan sent a message to Fakenham and Fitz, within moments of arriving at the Hall and hearing the Highlander's story, put things into perspective: It wasn't as if the guy was waving a sign saying _I am an English nobleman_! "Besides, laddie," Fitz had added as well: "Would you have been able to just walk past an injured man in need of help even if you'd known he was English or noble?"

Duncan couldn't argue with that, no matter how hard he tried…

Duncan forced his feet towards the staircase that led downstairs. His only comfort was that Hugh Fitzcairn was also here – downstairs, no doubt already seducing the female guests. Duncan sensed his friend's Immortal presence as he stepped off the last flight of stairs and entered the crowded ballroom.

Instantly a voice bellowed: "Ah, there you are, MacLeod!"

Duncan froze in his tracks and looked around to find Horace Walpole, the son of English Prime Minister Robert Walpole, walking toward him.

_You've really done it this time, haven't you, laddie?_ Duncan asked himself silently, unconsciously copying Fitz' accent. Words couldn't describe how relieved he was that there were no royalty present tonight…

The guests quietened immediately as Horace took hold of Duncan's arm and turned him to face everyone present.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Horace said loudly to the now-silent gathering. "Here he is, the brave man who saved my life! He found me lying unconscious in the snow beside a deserted lane, hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me all the way to Fakenham." He grinned at Duncan. "If it weren't for you we wouldn't be having this happy gathering, sir." He turned back to the other guests, saying: "My friends, I present to you Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod!"

The guests applauded, some of the men cheering. Within moments Duncan was surrounded by people wishing to shake his hand and congratulate him. Horace stayed by the Highlander's side, knowing Duncan well enough to know that he would bolt if he didn't. Duncan was forced to stay put, not quite sure whether he liked all the attention aimed his way, and feeling totally out of place.

Tall as he was, he could see over the heads of most of the people surrounding him. For the next half-hour Duncan sent dark looks to the other side of the ballroom, where Hugh Fitzcairn sat at a table, unashamedly enjoying his young friend's discomfort.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 2**

Finally Horace Walpole left to supervise something related to the ball, and Duncan was free to join Fitz in a quieter corner of the ballroom. The English Immortal was holding two glasses of champagne in his hands; he grinned as he handed one to Duncan. The Highlander emptied the glass in one swallow in an attempt to steady himself, then scowled at his companion. "This isn't funny, Fitz," he said darkly, his Scottish accent thick.

Fitz's eyes sparkled even more. "Of course it is _funny_, MacLeod!"

"Oh, really? Enlighten me," Duncan ordered, before grabbing Fitz's glass and downed the contents as well.

Fitz stared at him, then chuckled and reached into his coat. His hand reappeared holding an open bottle. "Plenty more where that came from, old boy!"

Duncan frowned disapprovingly. "I don't even want to know where you got that," he growled. "Now wipe that grin off your face."

Fitz feigned surprise. "It's a _ball_, MacLeod! I'm _supposed_ to be grinning!" He chuckled and drank from the bottle. "What I find funny is this: They're all English. You're Scottish. And now _they're_ holding a ball in _your_ honour, and _I'm_ here because I'm your friend." He glanced at Duncan meaningfully. "From the look on your face, I gather you're thinking the same thing…"

Duncan grunted his assent – after all, it wasn't that long ago that his sole mission in life was to kill every Englishman in existence. God only knew how he had befriended Hugh Fitzcairn… Scowling darkly, Duncan turned to watch the other guests. Fitz, his eyes still laughing, did the same.

The small orchestra was playing again. The dance floor filled with dancing couples. The two Immortals stood on the edge of it, watching the dancing. They were only vaguely aware of servants moving about at the far end of the ball room where tables had been set for dinner. Duncan saw Horace move amongst his guests, towards the door he himself had entered the ballroom by. He was thinking that the young man looked irritated and was about to wonder why, when Fitz suddenly said: "All these women, MacLeod! How am I supposed to make love to them all, if we're leaving in two weeks?"

Duncan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Is that all you ever think about?" he demanded sternly. He grabbed the bottle of champagne from Fitz's hand and took a swig from the neck as well, momentarily forgetting everything Connor had taught him.

Fitzcairn grinned.

Yes, Duncan _had_ noticed all the female guests as well, and he knew just how to rile Fitz up…

"Well," he said lightly. "At least you don't have to worry about that, Fitz. _I'm_ also here. Between the two of us, _all _the ladies will have a good time."

Fitz scowled, the shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, if you think you can keep up with me…"

Duncan started to laugh, then froze. Fitz did the same. Their eyes met as both sensed the presence of another Immortal's arrival. The two friends glanced around the ballroom nonchalantly, scanning the other guests for anyone who would undoubtedly be looking for them in return. Unfortunately the ballroom was so crowded with mingling, dancing guests. It was impossible for the two Immortals to discover the identity of the newcomer. Duncan and Fitz weren't surprised by this: Most Immortals, themselves included, went to great lengths to remain inconspicuous amongst mortals.

"Strange," Fitz murmured, aiming a charming smile at a young girl who stood nearby, obviously in need of a dancing partner. "No matter! Duty calls!" He promptly bounded off to speak to the girl, making her blush within moments of his arrival.

_Typical!_ Duncan thought in disgust. _Leave me to do all the work!_

He shook his head and watched the crowds once more. He still sensed the 'buzz', but could not make out the direction it came from. Slowly his eyes scanned the faces of the other guests. Unfortunately he recognized very few faces. There was no way of discovering the identity of the still-unknown Immortal.

Hugely frustrated, Duncan decided that he needed a drink. He realized that he was still holding Fitz's bottle of champagne and the two glasses. He set one glass down on a nearby table, filled the second. He looked up as he took a sip from the glass, and his eyes locked on Horace Walpole who now re-entered the ballroom. A small group of travel-weary people followed him into the ballroom, all still wearing their travelling clothes. Duncan was barely aware that there was more than one person in the group. His eyes had locked on a young woman in the party. No matter how much his mind told him not to stare, Duncan couldn't bring himself to look away.

She was _beautiful_.

She was young, no more than a girl. She was small – the top of her head looked as if it would only reach Duncan's shoulder – and slim. Her golden hair was wavy, loose tendrils escaping the combs and clips that held it fastened around her delicate face. Her make-up had faded during the day of travel, enhancing the sky blue of her eyes. She wore a long black cloak over her dark blue dress, held a pair of leather gloves in one hand, a small, feathered hat in the other.

Within seconds Duncan had to seriously concentrate on breathing…

A hand touched Duncan's elbow, jerking him out of his reverie. Duncan tore his eyes from the girl to see that Fitzcairn was at his side once more. The English Immortal also cast an appreciative look in the girl's direction. "Beautiful, isn't she?" Fitz said-asked. "I wonder-"

"Don't you dare!" Duncan snapped. "She's mine!"

Fitz grinned impishly. He also knew which buttons to push with Duncan MacLeod. "You don't even know who she is, dear boy!"

Duncan gave him a dark look. "All right, I'll bite. Who is she?"

Fitz's grin widened. "That's for me to know and for you to find out. And you're not going to find out because she'll be with me all night!" That said, he moved toward the blonde beauty.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Duncan growled, grabbing hold of Fitz's arm and pulling him back roughly. "I saw her fir-"

Fitz lost his balance and fell into a woman who was walking past. She shrieked and gave the Irishman a resounding slap across the cheek, then stormed off.

For a moment the ballroom was completely silent. Everyone turned to see what the fuss was about. Duncan smiled, made signs to indicate that all was well. Slowly everyone went back to whatever they had been busy with.

Meanwhile Fitz straightened, one hand touching his burning cheek lightly. "You wipe that grin off your face," he grumbled.

Duncan chuckled. "I told you to stay away form my woman!"

"Bah! Big talk from someone with as little experience as you have!"

Duncan grinned – but not because he thought that Fitz was being funny.

On the other side of the ballroom, Horace Walpole had stopped to speak to one of his head servants. His companions waited nearby, talking quietly amongst themselves. The gorgeous blonde did not speak, though. She was too busy looking the Highlander up and down. Their eyes met for a long moment. Then she shyly smiled at him. Duncan lifted his glass to her, nodded slightly in greeting.

Then Horace moved on, and the girl's party moved with him. He led them to the tables where they all took seats, while a handful of servants brought them dinner. A short while later the other guests also sat down to dinner, and Duncan made sure to sit where he could clearly see the girl; where she could see him in return. During the meal the girl looked up and saw him; blushed slightly when she recognized him.

It was two hours before Horace allowed the girl and her companions to go to their rooms elsewhere in the Hall, to rest from their journey. During all that time Duncan never managed to speak to the mysterious girl; was unable to learn her name even – there were simply too many people between them, blocking the way. Even so, their eyes continually sought each other out, drawn to one another in an attraction that neither had expected…


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 3**

The ball ended in the wee hours of the morning. Many of the guests left for their homes in nearby King's Lynn and the surrounding area. Those who had travelled from places further off, stayed at Houghton Hall – there was more than enough room to accommodate them.

Duncan went to bed alone, despite what he'd told Fitzcairn. His mind was filled with the image of the blonde beauty. It was as if the girl had cast a spell on him – ridiculous, but that was how it felt. For a while Duncan rolled around, thinking about the ball and the girl, wishing that he knew who she was and where her room was. Finally he fell asleep...

...and woke up again. Duncan managed to light the oil lamp beside his bed and glanced at the clock standing there – only six-thirty in the morning! A glance out the window confirmed that it was still dark outside.

Despite the amounts he'd drunk at the ball and his morning-hour bedtime, Duncan was wide awake, his mind filled by the image of the blonde girl. All he wanted to do was to get out of his room, to go looking for her, with or (but preferably!) without Fitz helping him. But Duncan knew that the hour was very early – even Horace Walpole would not forgive him for knocking on every door in the Hall in search of the girl. Until everyone was up and less hung-over, Duncan was stuck.

Duncan washed and dressed slowly, killing time. He heard the sounds of servants moving about quietly in the passage outside his room and knew that someone was awake, at least. But he kept to his room, waiting for more people to stir. He tried to be patient, tried to sit still and read a book he'd found in the Hall's library a few days before. But it was impossible. All he wanted to do was to find the girl whose beautiful face was burned into his memory, even if it was the last thing he ever did. He was also very much aware of the fact that should he go banging on her door at this hour, she would probably never speak to him again. And that would certainly be the end of him. Just knowing that she was somewhere in the building where he couldn't find her, was driving him crazy. He didn't even want to know what spending the rest of his life without her would be like...

Finally Duncan gave up. He leapt from his seat and flung the book onto the bed. Quickly he pulled on his boots, tied his sword belt around his waist and fastened his cloak around his neck.

He had to get out of the house!

The sky was lightening towards the east when Duncan stepped through a door and onto a gravel road that led from the Hall to the stables situated a short distance away. He walked through the stables' arched entrance and immediately felt more at ease when his eyes fell on the busy quadrangle beyond it. He was surrounded on all four sides by stables and other horse-related rooms. This was probably his favourite part of the entire Houghton Estate, filled with horses and men who didn't put on weird airs and graces, men who weren't afraid to get their hands dirty with work. A number of stable boys mucking out the stables and feeding the horses whose stables had already been cleaned. Duncan made his way across the yard toward the communal stable where his mare was housed, smiling and nodding greetings to those he passed on his way there.

It was quite dark in the stable, the only light coming from torches that burned in sconces set in the wall on Duncan's left. To his right were the horses, each in its own bay, blankets over their backs, their muzzles buried in bags of oats. It was quiet in the stable, the silence broken only by the occasional whinny and snort.

For the first time that morning Duncan felt at peace. He sighed contentedly and walked to his mare's bay.

The next instant the 'buzz' hit. Another Immortal!

Duncan had completely forgotten that there was a _third_ Immortal at the castle! He'd been so lovesick over the girl that he had forgotten everything else! He could kick himself for letting down his guard.

A split second later the Highlander had his broadsword drawn and ready. Warily he looked around, peered into the dark corners as he passed them. He saw nobody, but the 'buzz' of another Immortal's presence remained.

"I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," he called. "Show yourself."

Nothing happened.

Duncan took a few steps further into the stable, his eyes still searching. Again he said: "I am Duncan MacLeod. I mean no harm. Show yourself. Now!"

"So there really is second MacLeod roaming the world," a voice said behind him.

Duncan spun around and came face to face with the blonde girl from the ball! She stood in the doorway to the tack room, wearing a long white tunic over brown riding breeches, knee-high leather boots and a thick brown cloak. Her hair was pulled in an untidy ponytail in her neck. In one hand she held a bridle and reins. In the other hand was a curved Oriental-looking sword with a dragon's head on the pommel. It was raised defensively. Judging by the expression on her face, she knew how to use the blade too.

For a moment Duncan was too stunned to speak. This was the last thing he had expected.

The girl smiled slightly, but it didn't move into her eyes. "I was beginning to think Connor was just making all it up," she said. "Some Immortals do that, you know, make up family. It makes the world less lonely… For a while, at least."

Finally Duncan managed to find his voice. "You know _Connor_?" he asked in disbelief.

The girl nodded. "Well enough to know to pay attention when he _does_ mention something or someone very close to him."

Duncan nodded. "He does keep himself to himself, doesn't he?"

The girl nodded again, then looked at Duncan's broadsword. "Well, are you going to use that or not? Or can I go riding now? I'd really like to be back here and changed into a dress before anyone wakes up and sees me dressed like a man!"

Horrified that he had a sword drawn on a woman, Duncan nodded quickly and lowered his blade. He hesitated a moment, then put the sword away in its scabbard.

The girl smiled and hid her own sword in the folds of her cloak. She hesitated for a moment as well, then said: "I am Catherine Langton. From nowhere in particular." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "And I'm _not_ here for your head!"

Duncan grinned. "That's good to know!" He stepped toward her, extending a hand. "I am Duncan MacLeod. Pleased to meet you, Miss Langton."

Catherine shook his hand, extremely aware of how gentle his strong hand was when he held hers. "Catherine, please... If you like you can call me Kate. Connor does."

Duncan winced before he could stop himself. Kate! Instantly he was reminded of Kate, the pre-Immortal girl he'd married, then killed on their wedding night in an attempt to capture her beauty and youth forever. And then he watched her come back to life and run into the night screaming...

Duncan shook his head in an effort to force the image out of his mind. He looked up to see Catherine frown worriedly. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I knew a Kate once... Nothing good came of that acquaintance..."

Catherine nodded slowly. Gently she squeezed his hand. "What is past is past," she said firmly. "I am a new Kate. A new acquaintance." She smiled again. "Come riding with me," she ordered. "I promise I won't take your head! And you can tell me about the Highlands of Scotland. I've only ever heard Connor's version of it!"

Duncan smiled and nodded. Catherine left to fetch the rest of her riding equipment from the tack room. For a moment the Highlander found himself alone with the horses, not quite believing what had just happened.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 4**

They rode in the park surrounding Houghton Hall, keeping the dark shape of the manor house in sight through the trees around them. Catherine led the way, studying her surroundings as best she could in the pre-dawn twilight. Duncan was happy to follow – it allowed him to stare at her small form without her knowing it. Catherine had never been in the area before, and so she kept the Hall in sight to keep her bearings straight. It was safer that way as well, just in case her instincts about the Highlander proved to be wrong. Duncan, who knew the area around Houghton Hall fairly well due to his two-months' stay as Horace Walpole's guest, would have ridden further, but he didn't want his companion to be uncomfortable or uneasy about his intentions. He wanted to get to know her, not scare her off!

"I've don't know Norfolk at all," Catherine said while they rode. "I've lived in London most of the time. The rest of the time I've been on the Continent."

Duncan nodded. "What brings you here, then?"

Catherine hesitated a moment, then said: "My employers... They lived in Norwich. I lived with them for a month... Now we're all going to Scotland. Lord Roberts has been sent to keep an eye on what's left of the clans. He's taking his family with him. I'm the children's governess."

Duncan scowled darkly.

Catherine didn't miss it. "I'm sorry... Connor begged me not to come to England, but how was I to know that Lord Roberts would be sent to Scotland? And work is work."

"And we Immortals have to make lives for ourselves as best we can," Duncan said, nodding. "I understand."

Catherine reined in her horse, turned in her saddle to watch the Highlander approach. After drawing up beside her, Duncan reined in as well. Catherine put her hand on his arm lightly, reassuringly. "I've only known him for a month, but Lord Roberts is a good man, Duncan. He may be English, but I don't see him mistreating your people. The stories I've heard..."

"Are all true. Butchers, all of them!"

Just thinking about Culloden and that war's aftermath made Duncan's blood burn, made him want to draw his sword and-

He looked away sharply, shut his eyes tightly against he images of death and destruction that filled his mind. After Culloden he'd spent almost a year killing every Englishman he'd come across. Connor MacLeod had found him on a lonely English road, had persuaded him to stop the killing. Connor had taken him to Italy, to make sure that the killing _did_ stop. It had taken Duncan quite a while to start seeing the world in his old perspective again, but it would forever be tainted by his hate for the English, by the fact that he had killed innocent people. And then Connor's challenge: "Go to England. Find out if the English are all as evil as you believe them to be…" It had taken him all his courage to leave Italy…

He looked at Catherine again, suddenly exhausted. "I'm sorry," he said tiredly. "I shouldn't have brought up the subject."

Catherine smiled slightly, apologetically. "Actually, it was _I_ who brought it up. _I'm_ sorry." Gently she squeezed his arm. "We all have our demons, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. The English seem to be yours."

Duncan peered into Catherine's face and for the first time saw how much older her eyes seemed against the rest of her young-looking face. Intriguing... "Just how old _are_ you?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Catherine laughed and looked away. "Old enough to be your grandmother!" she said lightly, urging her horse forward.

Duncan did the same and continued to stay beside her. Slowly they rode along the tree-lined avenue toward the water tower, both conscious of each other's nearness. Duncan tried not to stare at her beautiful face, but it was difficult. It was hard to believe that she was older than she looked.

"I'd say you're probably... Six hundred years old," he pressed, curious.

Catherine laughed again. "If six hundred years makes you happy, then I'll say I'm six hundred years old."

"But you're not? You're older?"

She nodded slowly. "A little bit older..." She looked at him through the corner of her eye. "I'd tell you, but I've only just met you. No matter how much Connor has told me..."

Duncan realized that he wasn't going to get more out of her if he continued to press the subject, so he changed it. "So you know Connor... How long? How did you meet?"

Catherine smiled, relieved. "I've known him for a while. We met in Vienna fifty years ago. He was working as a blacksmith. I was a member of a travelling circus. Our horses needed new shoes, and Connor made them for us. He ended up joining our troupe. We've been friends since."

"Just friends?"

"Just friends. I was married to a member of our troupe at the time."

Duncan studied her face closely, frowning slightly. "Funny... He's never mentioned you..."

Catherine smiled mischievously. "That's because he knows me by another name! Back then it was Rachel Adams."

Ah, yes, now that name _was_ familiar! In Italy, Connor had often told stories of the circus he'd joined, stories about adventures with the two Immortals who had been members of the circus – Rachel and Benjamin Adams. The two might have been actors in light-hearted plays and skits, but Connor had described them as being formidable opponents, masters of their swords. Connor had learned much from them in the way of fighting. Connor himself had gotten on with Rachel better than Benjamin, knew more about her than him though they had spent much time together...

Duncan looked at Catherine again. "So, your husband... Is he still around?"

Catherine shook her head. "Alive, yes. Not around, though. We needed some time apart, so got divorce and went our separate ways."

"Recent?"

"About eleven years ago." She looked at Duncan sharply. "I really don't want to talk about Ben," she said firmly. "He doesn't want too many Immortals knowing about him. It's bad enough that Connor even mentioned him to you."

Duncan nodded. "I promise I won't tell a soul, Kate," he said honestly. "You know you can trust me to keep it."

Catherine studied his face for a moment, liking what she saw there. There were no terrible secrets lurking behind that handsome exterior. The thought was quite refreshing, considering some of the Immortals she had been entangled with in her lifetime. Finally she nodded and smiled, too caught up in her thoughts to notice that she was stealing the Highlander's heart even further. "All right, I'll trust you," she said. "And you can trust me too. Good basis for a friendship, if there ever was one. I'm here for three weeks. Then my party goes on to London, then Scotland. After that we'll have to see how we keep in touch, Highlander!"

Duncan grinned, not quite believing what he was hearing, but liking it anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 5**

They returned to the stables a short while later. Catherine handed the reins of her horse over to a stable boy, took her leave of Duncan and hurried from the stable yard to the Hall, to change into more suitable attire before anyone of any real importance saw her running around in men's clothing. Duncan stared until she was out of sight, grinning at the way the men's breeches showed off her legs, her small bottom. He couldn't help it. He was hooked.

He turned to lead his own mare to her assigned stable and realised that the stable boy in charge of Catherine's horse was still there. The boy – who looked no older than thirteen – stood beside him, staring at the archway Catherine had just disappeared through, his head cocked to one side. He had the most lovesick expression on his face that Duncan had ever seen.

Catherine Langton had only been at Houghton Hall for a few hours, but she already had admirers all over the place.

For a moment Duncan was too stunned to do anything. He certainly hadn't imagined any competition coming from this quarter! Impulsively he grabbed the stable boy's felt hat off his head and gave him a smack on the shoulder with it. "Oy!" he barked, unconsciously slipping into his thick Scottish brogue. "Keep yer eyes te yeself! Is tha' any way te look a' a lady?"

The boy jerked back to reality with a startled yelp. Then he realised that he'd been caught staring after the departed lady. Within seconds his complexion had turned bright red. "S-sorry, sir!" he stammered. "I won't do it again!"

Duncan gave the boy a stern look. "Ye be sure ye don'," he growled darkly, before pushing the boy's hat into his hands and stalking away, leading the mare behind him.

It took the stable boy a few seconds to really come to terms with what had just happened. Warily he made sure that the Highlander wasn't looking in his direction, then quickly snuck a look back at the entrance to the stable yard the beautiful blonde woman had disappeared through. Yes, she was definitely gone. The boy sighed, and put his felt hat back on his head. Oh, well, he had work to do anyway...


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 6**

Luckily for Catherine the children's nursery was situated towards the back of Houghton Hall, and she could reach it via a back staircase, passing only a handful of servants as she made her way through the manor house. Catherine kept the cloak wrapped around herself, but she knew that it did not do much to mask the fact that she was wearing men's clothing. She was certain that word of it would eventually reach the wrong ears – Lord and Lady Roberts', for example. She was already expecting a reprimand, possibly even some sort of punishment…

All because of that… that… adorable Scotsman! That much she could admit. Catherine growled inwardly. She should not have gone riding. That way she wouldn't have met the Highlander, or admired his handsome face, or enjoyed his company, or-

She forced thoughts of Duncan MacLeod out of her mind. Yes, she did like him – too much, in fact. But it was already too late. Her plan was already in motion. Methos would already have received her letter; he would be in King's Lynn within the week and once she was free of the Roberts family, she would most likely never see Duncan MacLeod again.

Driving all thoughts about other Immortals out of her mind, Catherine stepped into the corridor leading to the manor's nursery, ignoring the shocked shares she left in her wake.

She heard the noise coming through the nursery's door as she approached it. Sighing inwardly, Catherine took the key from her pocket and locked and opened the door.

The nursery was a large, long room, divided into sections by the deliberate placement of furniture. The door opened onto the play area, at the moment filled with trunks and other travel gear. To the left was a small dining area, complete with a table and chairs, and the large fireplace that warmed the room. To the right was the children's sleeping area – three small beds, a large cupboard and a chest of drawers. The room was still relatively neat – the children had been put to bed immediately upon arrival at the Hall the night before – but it wouldn't be long before their toys and things would be littering the room.

There was a door on the far side of the sleeping area, leading to Catherine's private quarters – a nice thought, but because she was the children's governess, she didn't spend much time in there, much less alone – the children were always with her. At the moment that door stood wide open; Catherine had very definitely closed when she'd snuck out earlier.

The noise Catherine had heard was this: The three Roberts children were all awake. Two girls and a boy, the latter the eldest at five years. Young Philip Roberts was very much the leader as the three jumped about on their beds and whacked each other with pillows, all laughing, yelling and shrieking as they did so. Catherine's charges had most definitely discovered that she was absent, and were taking full advantage of it.

Catherine watched them for a moment, smiling faintly.

_Oh, I wish_- She cut the thought off very quickly. No use in going there at all, full stop! She was old enough to know that by now!

She cleared her throat loudly, then called "Ahem!" when the children didn't respond.

The children froze in mid-pillow fight. For a moment they looked terrified, knowing that they had been discovered being very naughty. They stared at Catherine with wide eyes. Then they saw what she was wearing.

"Why are you wearing _trousers_?" Maggie, the youngest at two-and-a-half, demanded loudly, her voice as clear as a bell.

Catherine cringed, knowing that there were servants in the passage outside who were hearing every word. Quickly she closed the door to the nursery and locked it, making sure that she had the key in her hand when she stepped further into the room – she knew from first-hand experience that Philip was a keen explorer of new places…

"Yes!" four-year-old Lizzie said. "Where were you?"

Philip leapt from his bed and rushed to Catherine's side. Eyes bright, he said: "I saw you through the window! You went riding!"

Catherine tried not to look too horrified. Philip had been _awake_ when she'd left?!

Maggie rushed over, completely excited. "You went _riding_?"

Catherine could only nod as she made her way towards her room, the chattering children in tow.

"Riding?" asked Lizzie. "In the dark? Wasn't it scary?"

Philip thwacked her with the pillow still in his hand. "Of course it was scary, dummy!" he declared imperiously. "It was _dark_!"

Catherine rolled her eyes, but didn't bother to correct him. She could freely admit that it was light enough for him to look out the window and recognise her.

Lizzie stuck her tongue out at her brother, glaring darkly.

Maggie grabbed Catherine's hand and held it tightly. Looking at Catherine with wide eyes, she breathlessly asked: "But weren't you _scared_?"

Catherine smiled and shook her head. "No, Margaret, I wasn't scared." She moved the cloak to reveal the sword underneath. "I had Excalibur with me, see?"

Her katana wasn't really Excalibur, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that the children believed that it was. There was a relieved group-"Ahh!" Maggie didn't let go of Catherine's hand, though.

Catherine came to her door and peered into the room beyond. Yes, judging by the state of the bed, the children had been pillow-fighting in there too. She gave them her sternest look, but they just giggled. They knew that she would punish them for this, but it wouldn't be too bad. Last time she had only made them help her make the bed. Maggie's contribution to that had been putting the pillows on the bed, even if she had put them at the wrong end…

"I need to get dressed, children," Catherine said. "Will you be good for a few minutes?"

The three looked crestfallen about the end of their game, but nodded. Catherine smiled and squeezed Maggie's hand, then tousled Lizzie and Philip's hair. As she turned to enter the room, Lizzie demanded: "But _where_ did you go riding _to_?"

Catherine hesitated, then said: "In the park, of course. I went all the way to the water tower."

"But _why_?"

"I went looking for fairies," was the straight-faced reply.

Lizzie and Maggie gasped audibly.

"Fairies?" Philip demanded, looking incredulous.

Catherine nodded.

"Did you _see_ any fairies?" Lizzie begged, her eyes wide.

Catherine shook her head. "No, only the rings where they danced last night." She gave the children a gentle, knowing smile, then closed the door on them.

Lizzie and Maggie stared at each other, open-mouthed, eyes huge.

"Fairies!" Lizzie breathed.

"Fairies!" Maggie parroted.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 7**

Duncan found Hugh Fitzcairn in Houghton Hall's dining room an hour later. Fitz was alone and having breakfast, full English. It was midmorning, but Walpole family and their other guests had not stirred yet. The ball had continued on until very late – or very early, depending on one's view of it – and there had been vast and varied amounts of alcohol flowing...

The attending servants jumped to attention when Duncan walked into the room. One quickly set a place for him at the table opposite Fitz, while a second ran to collect warm food from the kitchen. Duncan was too excited to eat, but he let them fuss over him anyway. It drew much less attention that way. He waited until the servants had left again, before leaning over the table and asking: "Well, who is she?"

Fitz smiled slightly. "You're so predictable, dear boy," he said gently.

Duncan frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"The pretty blonde who I've been told is the governess to Lord and Lady Roberts' children... You've fallen in love with her."

Duncan nodded eagerly. "Oh, aye! And I've done more than that too. I've actually had a real conversation with her!"

Fitz raised an eyebrow questioningly. Despite the fact that everyone believed that he was wrapped up in his own Cassanova-like lovelife, Fitz did have eyes in his head. He had watched the younger Immortal fall in love right before his eyes. He was as sure of it as he was of the nose on his face. He had lurked near MacLeod all night, observing. Yes, it had led to the fact that he, Hugh Fitzcairn, had actually spent the night sleeping alone! But his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He had never seen MacLeod being in love before, infatuated yes, but never in love. Of course he knew all about Duncan's loves, the now-infamous Kate, for example, but this was the first time he'd ever been around to see MacLeod _fall in love_. Fitz was well aware of the fact that the younger Immortal had not had the opportunity to speak to the blonde beauty all night.

"Really?" he asked after a moment. "And how did that happen?"

Duncan quickly filled his friend in on what had happened earlier that morning. "I woke up really early and couldn't get back to sleep. So I decided to go for a ride. I go to the stables and sense the presence of that Immortal we sensed last night. I turn around and there she was! Catherine, that is. All dressed up in trousers and a tunic, looking so adorable! About to go riding too. And then it hit me – Catherine _is_ the other Immortal! She had this weird-looking sword in her hand and-" Duncan saw Fitz' face harden and stopped his rambling. "_What_?" he demanded.

Fitz was stunned, to put it lightly. He didn't know how to put his feelings into words, but he felt as if every drop of blood in his body had turned to ice. "She is an Immortal?" he asked quietly. That changed everything.

Duncan nodded, more soberly this time. "Yes. Fitz, what's wrong?"

"She's an Immortal and had a sword drawn on you? And you're going on as if it's nothing?"

Duncan nodded again. "My sword was drawn too! Besides, nothing happened. Neither of us was looking for a fight."

"But she _could_ have been looking for a fight."

Duncan gave Fitz a withering look. "And _I_ could also have been looking for a fight. As it turned out, neither of us did. We went riding instead."

Fitz bit back on a sharp remark, and thoughtfully said: "So _she's_ the other Immortal. Very interesting." He looked at Duncan again. "You went riding. What happened then?"

Duncan hesitated. Suddenly Fitz didn't seem so enthusiastic about his love life as he had been a moment ago. He could only wonder about the reason behind that. He could see his good mood beating at the closed window already, looking for a way out. Slowly he said: "We went riding. Stayed close to the Hall because Catherine seemed nervous. And we talked."

"About?"

"All kinds of things. About Connor, mostly. She knows _Connor_, Fitz!"

Fitz didn't bat an eyelid. "What else did she tell you?"

Duncan had to fight to stay calm. He didn't like where this seemed to be going, and most of all he didn't like the expression on Fitz' face. "She told me that she was older than me-"

"How much older?"

"We left it at six hundred, though she admits she's older."

"She didn't give a number?"

"No."

"What else did she say?"

"That she was in a circus. That's where she met Connor. And she was married to someone in the circus, but they're divorced now. Also an Immortal."

"They're really divorced? She didn't kill him?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Duncan demanded. "Of course she didn't kill him!"

"So she says."

Duncan's withering look turned into a outright glare. "Fitz, what is this about? Why are you being like this?"

Fitz found it in himself to smile at Duncan gently. "I am trying to figure out whether you know what you're getting into, dear boy."

Duncan rolled his eyes skyward. "Fitz, you charge into relationships without a thought all the time! I'm sure _you_ never interrogate yourself like this!"

Fitz nodded. "I can't help myself when it comes to women… But when it comes to an _Immortal_ woman, MacLeod, I stop and think. And I think hard. I usually I end up staying far, _far_ away. So far, in fact, that I usually end up in the next country."

"Why?"

"Woman are fey creatures, MacLeod. Immortal woman more so. Many will kiss you and run you through with a blade at the same time."

"You said 'many', not 'all'. Catherine's not like that! I know that much."

Fitz raised an eyebrow questioningly. "How do you know that? You've known her, what, a matter of hours? I'm asking you to be careful, laddie. Neither of us has ever heard of the Immortal called Catherine Langton. For all we know, she might be the devil incarnate, disguised as a gorgeous female, to lead us all into temptation and then the grave."

Duncan sat back in his chair, scowling. "Now that's melodramatic, Fitz," he said darkly.

"And Catherine isn't even here to defend herself. That's not fair!"

Fitz nodded. "I know, dear boy." He hesitated, then added: "But it could be true. Remember what I tell you. Falling in love is one thing. Falling in love with a fellow Immortal is quite another. You never know what that Immortal will decide to take your head. We all have our secrets, our games. You _know_ this already... I am asking you to be careful, MacLeod. Keep your eyes wide open. You have to know what you are getting involved in. _Especially_ when it involves you and women. Do not forget what happened a handful of years ago, with another Immortal whose name was also Kate…"

Duncan glared at Fitz for a moment longer, then looked away, nodded once.

Fitz smiled again, relieved. "Love is a good thing, MacLeod," he said. "Especially for you. It makes you happy... But remember, _be careful_. You can never really be sure with other Immortals. Keep your head attached to your shoulders, that's the most important thing."

Duncan heard the concern in Fitz' words and decided to take it for what it was – genuine concern for his happiness and wellbeing. And he didn't feel like arguing anymore. He smiled slightly and looked at Fitz again. "What? Are you going to steal her away from me?" he asked, semi-seriously.

Fitz shook his head. "No, dear boy. I have never and will never get involved with an Immortal woman, no matter how beautiful she is. Too much commitment involved. And I like variety! You know that!"

Despite his black mood, Duncan had to laugh. "You're completely mad, Englishman!"

Fitz sat back, grinning broadly.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 8**

Hugh Fitzcairn was well-known for being quite the Casanova, wooing women wherever he went. It didn't matter that most of them were engaged or married, or neither of the above. What mattered was that _he_ was in love and was able to convince a woman – didn't matter who – that they should be together. Fitz sometimes even went as far as to say that 'love' was his middle name! Yes, very often he ended up in confrontations with cuckolded fiancées or husbands, but he just didn't care. Fitz' sword arm was strong, his passion for the lady-of-the-moment undying, and it certainly helped to occasionally have the young Highlander with him to help calm the opponent-of-the-moment down. If nothing worked to his advantage, Fitz always had the advantage of being quite wealthy and able to leave town in a hurry. He knew that he would always find more female companionship elsewhere. It was exciting to meet new women, to fall in love and then pursue them with reckless abandon. Yes, it had often been said that Fitz was a heartless womaniser who was only in it for the sex, but Fitz himself did not agree with that statement. He loved women. He loved love. He loved being in love. So falling in and out of love with all kinds of women came as naturally as breathing to Fitz. It was his favourite past time, and it was so enjoyable that he never saw fit to change his ways. Indeed, he had often told MacLeod that he would die without women in his life, without love...

But even Fitz had to draw the line somewhere.

It was well after lunch when Fitz decided that he'd had enough of watching Duncan MacLeod pining for a woman he had only clapped eyes on for the first time the previous night. He sat in a wing-backed armchair, staring into the flames with the most pathetic love-lorn, lost expression on his face that even Fitz's eyebrows were raised. Even after the lecture Fitz had given him that morning, the Highlander continued to sing Catherine Langton's praises, out of the blue declare that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, etc, etc, etc, blah, blah, blah... All that Fitz could have lived with. The worst part of it all was the fact that Duncan seemed to be completely oblivious to the other women who hovered around him, noblewomen and servants alike, all trying to draw his attention their way. The man was so obviously smitten it was disgusting!

Finally Fitz couldn't take it anymore. He slammed shut the book he had been battling to read all afternoon, and dropped it on the table beside his chair as he leaped to his feet. Duncan looked up in surprise. "Wha- What is it, Fitz?" he stammered – he had been daydreaming about Catherine, and so he was slightly confused as to what was going on around him.

"Come on!" Fitz said. " Let's go for a walk! I need fresh air!"

Duncan hesitated, then nodded and stood. "Aye, a good idea," he said, following Fitz out of the small drawing room they had occupied since lunchtime. "Could we find the nursery while we're at it? Maybe she's there…"

Fitz was glad that he walked ahead of Duncan at that moment, so the Highlander did not see him roll his eyes heavenward in a silent prayer for release...

They found the nursery after much walking and enquiries of servants. But the door was locked and nobody answered their knocks or calls. Duncan even had his ear against the wood, but all was quiet in the room beyond. Neither of them even sensed 'buzz' that would signal Catherine's Immortal presence.

The Highlander looked so disappointed that Fitz genuinely felt sorry for him. Fitz clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly. "Not to worry, laddie," he said. "She's here somewhere. Can't very well just run off with the children and not tell the parents where they're going! She'll turn up eventually."

Duncan sighed and nodded, and silently followed Fitzcairn as he led the way towards the nearest door that would take them outside.

Finally the two Immortals came to the door that opened onto Houghton Hall's five-acre walled gardens. Slowly they walked down the lawned aisle that ran through the centre of the gardens, toward the greenhouse at the far end of it. On either side of the aisle there gardens in various styles – a few ornamental, others visibly functional as the Hall's kitchen gardens. In summer the gardens were a spectacular display of flowers in bloom. Now, in the dead of winter, the gardens were bare and bleak, lonely statues perched on plinths amongst empty beddings and dead-looking trees.

The cold had driven most of the Walpole's guests indoors, but Duncan and Fitz were both aware of the presence of another of their kind as they strolled towards the greenhouse. Occasionally they passed other guests, cheerfully greeting all they met, Fitz especially flirting with every woman who crossed their path. All the while their eyes scanned the gardens around them, searching – Fitzcairn, for an Immortal who might or might not be an enemy; Duncan, Catherine Langton. The Highlander did not even consider that it might not be her.

And then they came to what was called the rose garden. Duncan glanced through the gate that led to the garden, found himself looking at a kind of 'room' filled with what were apparently hundreds of different varieties of rose bushes; now all the bushes had been trimmed back completely and were mere twigs poking out of the mulched ground. There was an octagonal pool – the water covered in patches of ice – in the centre of the garden, sunken into the ground, and it was surrounded by Italian statues and rose arches.

There were only four people in the rose garden, all at the pool – Catherine and three children. All four wore thick coats, scarves, gloves and hats. Catherine stood beside the pool, holding the hand of a tiny girl, while anxiously watching the other two children – a girl and a boy – as they walked along the stone edge of the pool, their arms held out on either side to help keep their balance.

_Oh, dear_, Fitz thought when he saw Catherine. Just when he'd thought he could have a time-out in the Catherine Langton department, and now this! He looked around at Duncan – only to find that Duncan was no longer standing beside him. He looked around again, then saw the Highlander striding into the rose garden toward the woman and her charges. Staying by the gate leading to the rose garden, Fitz watched Duncan hail Catherine, watched her turn toward him and smile when she saw who it was. As she turned Fitz saw the sunlight flash off the katana that was belted to Catherine's waist. The blade was in a plain scabbard, but no attempt had been made to hide it from view. The Englishman's blood ran cold as he wondered what his young friend was getting himself into...

Duncan quickly walked to the sunken pool, so focused on Catherine that Fitz was forgotten – he didn't even notice that the English Immortal was not by his side. Catherine's back was turned on him, but as he approached and she sensed the direction that the 'buzz' of his presence came from, she turned toward him.

"Mr MacLeod!" she said, smiling. "We meet again!"

Duncan bowed properly from the waist, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously. As he straightened he said: "Well met, Miss Langton. I-"

"I know you!" Philip Roberts cried suddenly.

The two Immortals turned toward the boy, both completely confused. Philip stood on the stone edge surrounding the pool, hands on his hips, openly staring at Duncan.

Duncan frowned. "You do?" he asked, completely bewildered.

Philip nodded. "You were with Miss Langton this morning! You two went riding! I saw you through the window!"

Duncan and Catherine shared a look, both at a loss for words.

They were saved by the two Roberts girls. Lizzie, standing on the pool's edge with her brother, gasped, then gaped at Duncan and Catherine. Maggie, standing beside Catherine, grabbed hold of her governess' hand and clung to it.

Catherine was instantly worried. "Elizabeth, Margaret, what's wrong?" she demanded.

But Lizzie's attention was fixed on Duncan. "Did _you_ see any fairies this morning?" she demanded.

Duncan blinked in surprise, then turned to look at Catherine questioningly. "_What_ are they talking about?" he asked softly.

Catherine smiled sheepishly. "Just humour them, okay?"

At that moment little Maggie moved closer and grabbed Duncan's big hand in her free one. "Yes, yes! Did you see the fairies?" she begged.

Now this was a tight spot Duncan had never imagined himself ever being in. He found himself having to think hard and fast. Kneeling down on one knee, he looked Maggie in the eye. Within seconds Lizzie and Philip had crowded round as well. Gently Duncan patted Maggie's hand that held his.

"Yes," he said. "We saw a few fairies."

Lizzie and Maggie's eyes almost popped out as they stared at him, their faces filled with awe and wonder.

Philip, meanwhile, frowned and looked at Catherine. "But _you_ said you _didn't_ see any fairies! _Only_ fairy rings..."

Catherine nodded. "I didn't see any fairies!" she said matter-of-factly. She gave Duncan a pointed glare. "_You_ saw fairies? Where?"

Keeping his eyes locked with Catherine's, Duncan stood. "Oh, here and there," he said vaguely. "Mostly there."

Philip wasn't convinced, though. "How come he saw them, but you didn't?" he pressed.

Lizzie and Maggie nodded their agreement with their brother, and stared at Catherine with huge, questioning eyes.

Catherine shrugged. "Maybe I wasn't looking in the right places," she said simply.

The children's disappointed expressions made her want to crawl into a deep hole and stay there forever.

Shaking his head to indicate that he was not happy about any of this, Philip turned and stalked toward a statue nearby. Within moments he and his two sisters were running amongst the flowerbeds, playing tag.

Catherine, unnoticed by the children, scowled at Duncan. "You are making me look bad, Mr MacLeod," she said darkly.

Again their eyes met, locked. Slowly a grin spread over Duncan's face, and his eyes started to sparkle devilishly. Ahh... Now Duncan had Catherine in the tight spot right there with him! And he certainly did not mind the company.

Catherine stared fixedly at the children, tried desperately to think of a way to entertain them without them irritating the Walpoles' other guests. It was very difficult to ignore the Highlander right then – the roguish smile, the twinkle in his eye... Ye, gods!


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 9**

It didn't matter whether they were in their own home, or guests in someone else's, Lord and Lady Roberts made a point of spending every evening after dinner with their children, until the children's bedtime. Now, especially because the family was in the process of relocating to Scotland and a new home, this practice continued. The children's lives were disrupted enough, so the Robertses kept up their visits with the children as usual. Along with Catherine being their governess, these nightly visits with their parents were something the children could think of as something normal, something from home.

After parting ways with Duncan MacLeod in Houghton Hall's gardens, Catherine and the children returned to the nursery. Catherine gave the children their usual early dinner, then helped them bath and change into their night-clothes, gowns and slippers. At six o'clock Catherine escorted them to their parents' rooms and handed them over to their care.

Catherine returned to the nursery alone, relieved that now she had some time to herself. It was not easy to think seriously with little children running around her all day. She had to think, had to figure out what she was to do in the Duncan MacLeod department before things got truly out of hand...

The two or so hours that the children were with their parents, were Catherine's own. She was free to do what she wanted – read, take a walk, practice her sword skills, whatever. This time was her own, and the Robertses let her have it.

Catherine let herself into the nursery and locked the door behind her. She added a few more pieces of wood to the fire burning in the hearth, then sat down in an armchair in front of it. She had a new novel lying on her lap, but the book went unnoticed. For a long time she simply sat staring into the flames, her mind miles away...

It was quite obvious that he was falling in love with her. His actions, his words, his big brown eyes told her as much. And Catherine was... She was... She had to admit that her head was turned a little bit, that she did think that he was incredibly handsome and sweet. Instinct told her that underneath that educated gentleman's veneer he kept up, there lurked a wild barbarian type, and Catherine would be the first to admit that she liked it-

_NO!_ She couldn't fall in love with Duncan MacLeod, no matter what. She would be leaving Houghton Hall behind soon, either in a train of carriages with the Roberts family, or, if her plans worked out the way she wanted them to, in the middle of the night with Methos – depending on what the Old Guy had in mind. Either way, Duncan MacLeod could not and would not be figured into the equation. He would stay behind as Horace Walpole's guest, and she would disappear into the world, and they would most likely never see each other ever again. Better to break the man's heart now, than in about a week's time. That was that. End of story.

An image of the way Duncan had looked that afternoon flashed into her mind: Tall, powerfully built, dark hair framing his ruggedly handsome face, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he smiled at her so seductively.

Catherine's eyes closed and she smiled as she thought about it. If there hadn't been other people around, she would probably have kis-

_NO!!_ Her eyes snapped open and she forced the image from her mind. To help her do this she got up and moved around the nursery, tidying up the toys and clothes that were strewn across the room. The distraction worked for about a minute, and then the image of the Highlander's smiling face filled her mind again.

Swearing softly in frustration, Catherine decided that she needed some fresh air. Quickly she pulled on her hooded cloak, strapped her sword-belt around her waist, then stalked out of the nursery. It was almost time to fetch the children, anyway. She might as well take a walk until then...

Thirty minutes later Catherine was on her way back to the nursery with the Roberts children. Lizzie and Philip walked ahead of her, exhausted. Little Maggie was already fast asleep in Catherine's arms. Catherine was quite relieved – it wouldn't be difficult to get the children to bed tonight.

They turned into the passage that led to the nursery. Taking her eyes off the children, Catherine glanced ahead at the nursery door to make sure that all was as she had left it: Yes, the door was closed and the two oil lamps flanking still lit the way. But no, it wasn't as she had left it: A huge bunch of flowers, tied together with a piece of green ribbon, lay on the ground right in front of the door. A folded piece of paper was stuck in amongst the stems.

Catherine looked around warily, but the passage was empty. Whoever had left the flowers was long gone.

"Who left flowers, Miss Langton?" Lizzie asked sleepily when they reached the door.

"I don't know, dear," Catherine said honestly, taking the key from her dress' pocket and unlocking the door. "Go in, quickly now. Don't step on the flowers!"

Philip and Lizzie did as they were told, and Catherine followed them into the nursery. She put the three children to bed first and blew out the candles around their beds first, before returning to the open nursery door and the flowers lying before it. She knelt down and picked up the flowers, then straightened. Her eyes scanned the empty passage once more, and then she closed and locked the door. She took the flowers to the nursery's dining area and set them down on the table. For a moment she just looked at them: Roses, lilies... She seen flowers like these in the greenhouse earlier that day and could only assume that they had been stolen from there as well. Smiling to herself, Catherine took the piece of paper from the flowers and opened it. It was a note from – who else? – the Highlander.

_Dear Catherine_

_I am sorry if I embarrassed you this afternoon. That was not my intention at all! And you told me to improvise, so I did! Not my fault our stories didn't match!_

_Have sweet dreams tonight, beautiful Kate. I hope to find you happy and smiling tomorrow! Good night, darling. _

_Yours, Duncan_

It took a moment for Catherine to realise that she was grinning, and then a few seconds more to realise that she couldn't stop.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 10**

It was late in the afternoon, the setting sun hidden behind thick banks of clouds that poured their contents onto the market town of King's Lynn and its surrounding countryside. It was dark already, and the light from torches and candles shone in windows and doorways. The streets were fairly empty of people when the black, horse-drawn postal coach made its way down King's Lynn's high street and drew to a halt in front of the town's largest inn. Before the coach driver even left his seat, the windowed door on the side of the carriage opened. A moment later the coach's sole passenger appeared, taking his time getting out, seemingly wary of the rain.

Finally he stood in the muddy street, sort of revealed: A tall man, draped head-to-foot in a long black cloak. In his hand he carried a large black bag, the contents too valuable to him for the bag to be out of his sight. His face was hidden within the cloak's hood. All that could be seen of his face was his lean face, a shaggy dark beard and moustache, and his cold grey eyes. Those eyes quickly took in their owner's surroundings; while at the same time the man's other instincts told him that there were no Immortals in the vicinity. Satisfied, the man turned back to the carriage, to see the coach driver climbing up onto the roof.

"Welcome to King's Lynn," the driver said, as he untied the ropes that held down the luggage tied to the roof. A moment later he tossed down his passenger's small wooden travel chest. "Lord only knows why you're here, Doctor Adams, but I sure hope you find it, whatever it is."

Methos smiled slightly, amused. "That remains to be seen, driver," he said quietly. He put down his medical bag long enough to hoist his travel chest onto a shoulder. Then he picked up the medical bag again and moved toward the entrance of the inn, eager to get out of the rain.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 11

There wasn't a cloud in the sky the next day and, although it was bitterly cold, was sunny and the Walpole family decided to make the most of it. By mid-morning quite a large party left the stable yard – basically everyone living and visiting at Houghton Hall, as well as a number of servants. Most of the men were on horseback, while the women and children followed in horse-drawn carriages. It was quite a procession that wounds its way through Houghton Park. Duncan and Fitz rode up front with Horace Walpole, his father and Lord Roberts. Catherine – wearing a dress and riding side-saddle, very much to her disgust – rode beside the carriage bearing Lady Roberts and her three children.

They travelled for almost an hour before arriving in a large glen where a marquee tent had been erected. Shunning the sunshine, the adults fled to the fire burning inside the tent. The Roberts children, on the other hand, went chasing after the Walpole family's dogs, oblivious to the dark looks cast their way by the servants who were carrying chairs and food baskets from the carriages to the tent. They would probably have told Philip, Lizzie and Maggie off, if only Catherine hadn't been nearby, keeping a hawk's eye on her charges. The sword belted at her waist didn't encourage conversation either...

During the semi-chaos the setting up of the picnic site caused, Duncan managed to slip away from Fitz' own hawk-eyed stare, and went to find Catherine. They hadn't spoken yet that day; there simply hadn't been time or opportunity, whether at the stables or during the ride – Fitz seemed determined to draw MacLeod into conversations with people standing or riding far from a certain female Immortal whom he did not approve of.

Duncan found Catherine standing near the 'edge' of the picnic site, watching while the Roberts children kicked a ball around. A handful of the Walpoles' dogs had joined in the game, resulting in enraged yells and shrieks from Philip, Lizzie and Maggie whenever they lost possession of the ball.

Duncan came up behind Catherine, smiling as he said: "Letting them run wild, are you?"

Catherine, startled, looked around quickly, then relaxed and smiled when she saw who had spoken. She shrugged. "They're young enough for it. Plenty of time to grow up later."

"The ball!" Philip Roberts shouted suddenly. "Stop it!"

Catherine and Duncan both looked, saw the ball speeding toward them, the dogs giving chase.

Instinctively Duncan stopped the ball with his foot, quickly picked it up. Within moments the two Immortals were surrounded by a small pack of hairy animals, all barking and leaping for the ball, tails wagging all the way.

"Och, ye want the ball?" the Highlander asked, teasingly shaking the ball in the dogs' faces, then holding it out of reach. "Ye boys _really_ want it?"

The dogs went nuts, basically.

Catherine, acutely aware of the attention this was drawing, rolled her eyes. Grabbing the ball from Duncan, she threw it to Philip, sending the dogs roaring after it. "Really, you boys!" she scolded lightly. "And you complain when I let the children run wild!" In vain she tried to dust away the dirty paw-prints that had landed on her clothes.

Duncan chuckled. "Aye! We 'boys' never really grow up!" he said. "Ye never know what we might do!"

Catherine had to smile at that. Giving up on cleaning her dress, she straightened. Shooting the Highlander a knowing look, she asked: "And would that include stealing flowers from other people's greenhouses, Mr MacLeod?"

Duncan grinned, while casting a nervous look in the Walpoles' direction. "Aye, it might."

Then little Maggie was there, grabbing hold of Duncan's hand. "Did _you_ give Miss Langton the flowers?" she demanded. "Are you going to marry her?"

Both Immortals were dumbstruck, taken completely by surprise.

"Well, um-" Duncan began slowly.

"Because Daddy gave Mommy flowers, and then they got married!" Maggie said matter-of-factly.

Duncan and Catherine looked at each other in bewilderment.

They were saved by Fitz, amazingly enough, who walked up at that moment, saying: "I think there might be more to your parents' story than they've told you, little lady." He gave Duncan a pointed, disapproving look. "Come, MacLeod. Horace just opened a bottle of Scotland's finest. We can't let it go to waste!"

Duncan scowled at Fitz, then turned back to Catherine. "Looks like I have to go," he said dejectedly.

Catherine shrugged and smiled. "It's all right. I'm meant to be working, after all..."

Duncan nodded, gave her one last sweet smile, then followed Fitz back to the tent.

Catherine watched him leave, then turned back to Maggie, just as the little girl asked: "Why doesn't he like you?"

Catherine frowned. "Who, Margaret?"

"That man."

"Which one, dear?"

Maggie sighed and gave Catherine a stern look. "The short one," she said slowly, irritated that she had to explain everything to her governess yet again. "Why doesn't he like you?"

Catherine shook her head. "I don't know, Margaret," she said truthfully. _But I could hazard a guess or two_, she added silently. Taking Maggie by the hand, she led the little girl to where her brother and sister were petting the dogs around them, the ball forgotten. "At least Duncan likes me," she said lightly.

Maggie nodded. "He's going to marry you," she said flatly.

Catherine looked at the little girl with much amusement, asking: "You really think so?"

Maggie nodded again, her face determined. "Yes."

Catherine just had to smile.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 12

It was an hour after lunch, and all three the children were fast asleep on a pile of blankets in a corner of the marquee. Most of the Walpoles and the guests were playing cards at a table in the middle of the tent. Others sat talking nearby, while others braved the cold and went for a walk around the glen. Catherine sat near the children, watching over them with half and eye, while struggling to read the book she had brought with her from the manor house… Her eyes kept straying towards the very-easy-on-the-eye figure of the Highlander standing on the other side of the tent, talking with Horace Walpole and Lord Roberts. Catherine kept having to remind herself not to stare... remind herself that Duncan MacLeod was a guest at the manor house and she was the servant of another guest... remind herself that she would be leaving Houghton Hall soon and that she would probably never see the man again...

It was a pity that her heart didn't seem to want to agree with what her mind was telling it.

She forced her attention to the book in her hands, forced her eyes to take in the words.

Unfortunately the book was turning out to be a love story... The heroine found herself in love with a man who did not love her in return. Catherine was busy - or trying to - read the part where the girl, in a frenzy of heartache and fury, when to the stable where the man housed his horse and proceeded to cut up his riding tack so that he wouldn't be able to visit the woman he was in love with.

As if Catherine needed the reminder!

Scowling, she shut the book with a snap and looked up. Her eyes fell on Duncan MacLeod, who was walking toward her! With him was Lady Roberts. They smiled when they reached her. Catherine rose quickly and dusted off the back of her dress.

"Hello, Kate," Duncan said softly, not wanting to wake the children. "If you're interested... I've asked Lady Roberts to let you go riding with me while the children are asleep, and she's agreed to let you go."

Catherine looked at Lady Roberts questioningly.

Lady Roberts nodded. "I thought you would want to explore the estate some more, Miss Langton," she said. "See something of the place before we leave for London... I'll stay with the children while you're gone. Unless you don't want to go, that is..."

Catherine shook her head quickly and smiled. "No, I want to go. We'll try to be back before the little ones wake up!"

And so they went riding.

Fitz went along, of course. He insisted. There was no way in hell that he, Hugh Fitzcairn, was going to allow Duncan MacLeod to go off with an Immortal woman neither of them had never heard of! He turned a deaf ear on Duncan's heated protests, mounted his horse and rode from the picnic site with them. He definitely wasn't about to let the two get too comfortable with each other just yet; not until he knew more about Ms Langton.

He had a good excuse for going along too: Lady Roberts had asked him to go, to chaperone "the two young ones" as she called them. Not the wisest of requests, considering Fitz' reputation with women, but she didn't know him well enough to know that just yet. It gave Fitz the perfect excuse to keep an eye on Catherine Langton, and to be around should his friend the Highlander need it. You never knew with Immortal women. As he'd told MacLeod the day before, some would kiss you and run you through with a sword at the same time. Fitz just hoped that this wasn't going to be the case.

They rode slowly, because Catherine was riding side-saddle and, since this was her first visit to Houghton Hall, she wanted to look around. Catherine and Duncan rode together, talking. At first Fitz rode beside them, all the time trying to keep Duncan's by drawing the Highlander into conversations that had nothing to do with Catherine. Duncan would listen and reply to whatever Fitz said, then turn his gaze back to Catherine, open his mouth to speak, and then find Fitz clapping him on the shoulder to steal back his attention. Finally Duncan gave Fitz such a filthy look that silenced the English Immortal on the spot. In a huff Fitz urged his horse into a gallop and sped down the path they were following. A moment later he returned to the two Immortals, but didn't join them. Instead he rode behind them from then on, glowering all the way.

Catherine felt the English Immortal's steamed glares burn into her back, but decided to ignore them. Unsure as she was about her feelings for Duncan MacLeod and the circumstances she found herself in, she was enjoying herself and she didn't want to spoil the afternoon by confronting the Highlander's friend about his attitude towards her. It was obvious that he didn't like her; she could see that for herself. She just hoped that Fitz didn't dislike her enough to draw his sword and challenge her, but if that _did_ happen… well, her katana was at her waist, as always…

They rode for almost an hour, Catherine and Duncan talking, Fitzcairn stonily silent. Catherine and Duncan eventually just ignored him. They were having too much fun telling each other about their respective adventures with their mutual friend Connor MacLeod. Catherine spoke more of meeting Connor in his blacksmith's shop in Vienna, then persuading him to join the circus troupe as their own blacksmith. Connor had joined the troupe, and had ended up being the star attraction when it came to fire-blowing and sword-swallowing. Duncan, surprised to say the least (he'd never known that Connor could do such things!), told Catherine about when he and Connor had first met and how the older MacLeod had taught him to be a good Immortal.

"He is a good teacher," Duncan said, his eyes wistful. There were days when he really missed having his kinsman around.

Catherine nodded. "I know. I've seen him in action…"

Duncan frowned and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen Connor when he's in mentor-mode. He left the circus a few years before Me- my husband and I left. Just before he went off, he met an Immortal woman who was in… some kind of… trouble…" Catherine spoke slowly, thoughtfully, then shook her head as if to clear it. "I didn't really like her, so I stayed away. But from what I could gather she was… struggling… with coming to terms with being immortal, I guess. She wasn't new to the Game, or young, but… Anyway, Connor took a liking to her, took her under his wing. He left the circus to take her away from me and Ben."

"Away from you and your husband. Why?"

Catherine shrugged. "We were Immortals. She was confused. I guess he took her away so that she could clear her head."

Duncan nodded thoughtfully. "You don't remember the name of this wom-" he began, just as he looked forward to check the path they followed. "Oh, wow!" he breathed. "I had no idea we'd come this far!"

At that moment the three Immortals passed through a line of trees and found their way blocked by a waist-high stone wall. Duncan reined in his horse immediately, and Catherine followed suit, somewhat bewildered. She saw the surprised, yet pleased look on the Highlander's face, and looked at the wall and beyond it.

On the other side of the wall was a huge empty expanse of land, uninhabited and untamed. Dozens of trees dotted the landscape, surrounded fields of frozen grass. A herd of deer could be seen grazing in the distance.

To Catherine it was just another field, but she was curious about the Highlander's reaction. Frowning, she asked: "It's a field, Duncan. What about it?"

Fitz drew up on her other side and reined in his horse. For the first time that afternoon he actually spoke to her: "That, Miss Langton," he said coolly. "Happens to be the King's land."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "All of England is the King's land, Mr Fitzcairn," she said, before turning to look at Duncan questioningly.

The Highlander shot Fitz a filthy look over Catherine's head, then said: "As Fitz said, Kate, it's the King's land. Horace says that the King comes here to hunt.*"

Catherine nodded thoughtfully, allowing her gaze sweep over the lands before her once more, appreciating the view more this time round. Duncan was correct. They were at the boundary of the Houghton Estate. The view over the wall was all they were permitted. Indeed, the King of England's hunting grounds lay on the other side of the wall, and all who dared trespass would face the death penalty if caught.

The three Immortals would have loved to explore the royal hunting grounds, but knew that this was impossible. Their heads were simply too precious, and not just in terms of the Game. Instead they dismounted and went to lean on the wall. For almost thirty minutes they stared out across at the wild lands beyond, fighting the temptation to climb over.

Finally, when the temptation started to become too great, they mounted their horses and rode back into Houghton Park. As Fitz pointedly reminded them, they had been gone long enough for people to start wondering about Miss Langton's safety. Duncan scowled at his friend, while Catherine just rolled her eyes skyward. In silence they followed the English Immortal back to the glen where the rest of the picnic party was awaiting their return.

* The Sandringham estate, still owned and used by the Royal family.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 13

Nobody knew it, but there was another person watching over the three Immortals that afternoon. He was too far away to sense the 'buzz', but he was old enough to recognise them for what they were: Immortals. He recognised Amién (for that was who she would always be to him) instantly. But he was curious about the other two Immortals riding with her – he had never seen or heard of them before – so he watched them instead. He watched Hugh Fitzcairn in particular, and was intrigued that Amién would tolerate the presence of an Immortal who seemed to be openly hostile towards her – he could see that right away.

Some way to the other side of the wall marking the border of the Houghton

Estate, was a low hill, covered in trees and boulders. It was dark amongst the trees; nothing could be seen inside them, especially at a distance.

Methos sat on a boulder amongst the trees, his dark clothing making him even more invisible in the shadows around him. Behind him, the reins fastened to a low branch, was the horse that he had hired from the landlord of the inn in King's Lynn. On the ground beside the boulder lay a bag containing food, a bottle of wine. His Ivanhoe lay on top of the bag, out of the mud. Instinct had told Methos to sit there, to wait, to hope. He had been there for quite a while – most of the food and wine had been already been consumed.

Now Methos watched the three Immortals intently, one eye shut tightly, the other looking through a telescope he'd 'liberated' from a locked cupboard at the inn the previous night.

Amién and the two Immortal men stopped by the stone wall for almost half an hour, gazing at the royal hunting grounds Methos was trespassing on. During those thirty minutes Methos watched, gave Duncan and Fitz names in order to tell them apart (Duncan became 'Dark Man', Fitz was 'The Idiot'), and three things became abundantly clear to the ancient Immortal...

One... 'Dark Man' was in love with Amién. There was no doubt about it. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He stayed close to her, kept telling jokes that would make her laugh, thus ensuring that her attention stayed focused on him. 'Dark Man' appeared to be kind and good-natured, and extremely patient. But he was definitely annoyed whenever 'The Idiot' spoke up, forcing his attention away from the beautiful Immortal at his side.

Two... 'The Idiot' did not like Amién. Methos could see that from where he sat staring through the telescope. And he made it blatantly obvious to both Amién and 'Dark Man'. He kept trying to distract 'Dark Man' by starting up conversations that didn't include Amién. He hardly said a word to Amién during all that time. He focused on 'Dark Man' and spoke only to him, giving Amién filthy looks as he did so. It was clear that he would prefer that 'Dark Man' have nothing to do with her; that he would be eternally grateful if she were to disappear off the face of the earth forever.

The third thing Methos noticed struck him the most: Amién was not happy. Yes, she seemed happy _now_; she smiled and laughed at 'Dark Man's jokes, was in a good enough mood to not take offence to 'The Idiot's behaviour. And she seemed to really like 'Dark Man', to like being with him.

But she was not _happy_. There was something beyond today's quiet, happy moment. Something dark, unpleasant, as if Amién was expecting something terrible to happen soon. She seemed tense, nervous. She wasn't afraid, didn't seem to be expecting a Challenge from either of her companions. But she wasn't as outgoing as Methos knew she usually was. She seemed to be holding back, as if she were unsure of something... herself, maybe.

Before Methos could be sure of what he was seeing, the three Immortals suddenly mounted their horses and rode away from the wall, moving back into the Houghton lands. Methos watched until they rode through a line of trees and were hidden from sight. Then he put down the telescope and reached into a pocket of his coat. A moment later he was unfolding the letter he had received the previous week. Though he knew the words in the letter off by heart, he reread it for what seemed like the millionth time:

"_Yet again I am to witness firsthand the oppression of a nation – or at least a part of one – and not be able to do anything about it. My heart breaks just thinking about it. Time for the quiet life, I think, somewhere no one can find me…. M., do whatever you think is necessary and please come as fast as you can!"_

Methos read the letter twice, then sighed and returned it to his pocket. For a long time he stared out over the wild lands before him, deep in thought. _Why does the thought of going to Scotland upset you so, Amién?_ he asked silently. _You've always wanted to go, after hearing all those stories Connor told us… Is it because of the war there? But they say that is over… Are the Horsemen still riding in your mind? Is that why you do not want to go there? And why did you send for me, beg me to take you away from here, if you have a friend here who seems to care about you very much? You like him, I can see that much. Is he doing something to hurt you? Or his friend, The Idiot… Is he threatening you? Is he more of a threat than I realise?_

For a long time Methos sat there, his mind spinning, not knowing what to make of what he had seen...


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 14

It was late afternoon when the picnic party arrived back at Houghton Hall. The carriages took their passengers straight to the manor house, while those on horseback headed for the stable yard. Within moments the courtyard was in a state of chaos, horses and riders everywhere, the stable boys battling to get things under control.

Catherine gave the confused scene one look, then headed for the stable where she housed her horse, leading the mare inside. She was extremely surprised to find a young blond stable boy wearing a floppy felt hat waiting for her just inside the door. He held a large blanket in his arms; looked for all the world as if he had been waiting just for her. Even so, his face paled then flushed bright pink when he saw Catherine. Unable to speak, he jumped to the task of taking charge of Catherine's horse. Catherine, highly amused, stepped back to watch how the boy handled the mare.

The boy had led the mare into its bay and quickly removed the saddle and other riding tack. He was just about to throw the blanket over the animal's back, when suddenly Duncan MacLeod walked into the stable, leading his own horse. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of the Highlander, and he jumped back from Catherine's horse. Catherine was intrigued. The boy looked as if he had just been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar!

Duncan, oblivious to Catherine's presence (and too caught up in his thoughts to realise that he was sensing the 'buzz' very strongly!) shot the boy a black look. "_You_!" he snarled.

The boy gave a startled yelp, shot a last look at Catherine, then headed for the door, almost at a run.

Catherine couldn't help but wonder what was going on between the two.

Duncan, meanwhile, stalked toward his horse's bay and let the horse in. He was just about to remove the riding gear when he suddenly realised that he was in fact sensing the presence of another Immortal! He spun around, drawing his broadsword as he did so.

"I am Duncan Ma-" he began, then stopped in mid-'MacLeod'.

Catherine studied the drawn sword with a raised eyebrow, then look up at Duncan. "You do realise that this is the second time you've drawn a blade on me in as many days, Highlander?" she said lightly.

Duncan had come to the same conclusion. Quickly he and quickly sheathed the sword. "Kate!" he said. "I didn't see you there!"

"And if I had been any other Immortal, you would probably be dead by now!" she scolded.

Duncan grinned sheepishly. "I was... distracted."

Catherine smiled slightly. "So I could see, Duncan, so I could see."

For an instant Duncan stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Then his horse nuzzled his shoulder, jerking him back to reality. Grateful for the distraction, Duncan went about removing the saddle and reins, and setting them down on the floor outside of his horse's bay. Catherine took the hint; she picked up the blanket the stable boy had dropped and spread it out over her mare's back.

Duncan was busy doing the same when he suddenly asked: "If I asked the Robertses to let you have a day off, Kate... Would you go to King's Lynn with me? You know, to have a look around, talk... Hopefully Fitz _won't_ go..."

Catherine looked at him sceptically. "I don't know, Duncan. I doubt they'd let me go, especially if they know I'll be alone with you..."

Duncan gave his horse a pat on the shoulder, then stepped out of the bay, closing the wooden gate behind him. Slowly he walked toward Catherine, saying: "Let me worry about that, Kate. Just tell me... If I were to ask them to give you time off, and they said yes, would you... you know, say yes too? Spend the day with me. At King's Lynn, or wherever. Whatever you want to do!"

Catherine was too surprised to speak. She had definitely not seen this coming! "I- I-" she stammered, lost for words.

Duncan stood in front of her now, smiling down at her. He reached out a hand and gently brushed a few stray strands of blonde hair behind Catherine's ear. "Just say 'yes' please!" he pressed.

"I- um- They-"

Duncan sighed and shook his head. "Aye, ye women!" he said gruffly. "Ye never know wha' ye wan'!"

That snapped Catherine back to her senses. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Still shaking his head, Duncan impulsively reached out his hand again, this time to cup the back of Catherine's head gently. Before he could actually think about what he was doing, he leaned closer and kissed her full on the lips, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt.

It was a moment before Catherine realised that she was actually kissing him back, and a split-second more for her to decide that she didn't want to stop.

It took all Duncan's willpower to pull away. Breathlessly they stared into each other's eyes, not sure how to proceed.

"Will you at least consider it?" Duncan asked softly.

Catherine nodded. "I will," she said. "But what if they say no?"

Duncan grinned impishly. "I was hoping a little arm-bending would do the trick. But if they say no, I'll probably have to resort to some arm-_breaking_!"

Catherine threw back her head and laughed.

***

It was only much later, as Fitz was drifting off to sleep, that an unexpected thought crossed his mind. Why had Lady Roberts asked him to chaperone Duncan and the governess? Him, a man? Why not another woman, a servant or something? Was it because she thought that two women could not defend themselves against a man as strong and formidable as the Highlander? Or was it because Duncan was Scottish, and Fitz could be trusted because he was an Englishman? Was there more going on here than he and Duncan realised?

All thoughts of sleep suddenly gone, Fitz rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. For a long time he stared at the dark ceiling above his bed, wondering...


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 15

Even though they had spent most of the day around their parents, Catherine still took the Roberts children to their parents' rooms that night, as always. Then she returned to the nursery, donned her cloak and pulled the hood over her face, then headed out of doors. It didn't take long for Catherine to reach to gardens. For a long time she wandered the unlit pathways.

Finally she came to the greenhouses, a part of the Houghton Estate she hadn't been to yet. Impulsively she searched for an unlocked door and let herself in. It was dark and silent here (moonbeams the only light shining through the glass roof overhead) and, more importantly, empty of people. Relieved, Catherine stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her.

For a while she wandered amongst the potted plants, absently wondered what they looked like during the day. Then the sound of running water reached her ears. Frowning, Catherine followed the sound until she finally came to a small indoor fountain, surrounded by rocks and ferns. With a sigh Catherine sat down on a small stone bench set to one side of the fountain.

For a long time Catherine sat there, staring into the dark shadows without really seeing them. The eyes of her mind were far away, staring at sunlit scenes… riding in the dark… adorable smiles in a rose garden… flowers on her doorstep… a kiss stolen in the stables…

Catherine sighed again. "Damn you, Highlander," she whispered to the darkness. "Did you have to walk into my life now?"

She sat beside the fountain for over an hour, her mind spinning…


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 16

After ensuring that the children were fast asleep in their beds and the nursery door locked, the key hidden in a safe place, Catherine returned to her room adjacent the nursery. She closed and locked that door behind her as well. It would not do to have anyone walk in on her tonight, especially the children...

She drew the curtains shut over the windows, checked that her katana was lying under the bed within easy reach, and then changed into her long white night-gown. She then went to the wardrobe and the travel cases that were stacked on top of another beside it. The cases were empty, their contents appropriately stored in the wardrobe beside which they were stacked. Or so everyone thought.

Catherine reached out and ran a hand over the side of the case on the top of the stack, her attention focused on the smooth finish of the wood and leather. Then her fingertips brushed against a very faint irregularity along the top edge of the side of the case. Catherine pressed at the irregularity firmly and took her hand away. A moment later the side of the case fell open, revealing a tiny compartment hidden between the lining and the wooden outer case. Inside the small space were a number of paper packets sealed shut with wax, a few white candle stubs, a small round mirror, a grey velvet drawstring pouch, and a small ivory-handled knife.

Catherine smiled to herself, relieved that all was as she had left it, that she had everything she needed for what she had to do. Carefully she removed all the objects from the secret compartment and carried them to the bedside table. She set everything down, hesitated an instant, then steeled herself and went to work.

She polished the mirror until it was spotless; set it down flat on the bedside table. She took one of the candle stubs on placed it on the very centre of the mirror. Within moments it was lit, the flame's reflection flickering eerily beneath it. She opened the velvet pouch and took a delicate golden chain with a locket attached from it. The chain she arranged around the burning candle, careful to keep every piece of it on the mirror. The locket itself she placed in such a way that it lay between the candle and herself.

All of this done, Catherine rose from the bed and went around the room, blowing out the lamps and candles that lit up the room, until finally the only light came from the candle on the mirror.

For a moment Catherine stood on the opposite side of the room, watching the light flicker in the darkness. The flame's reflection in the mirror was even eerier in the complete darkness that surrounded it now. Catherine felt a shiver run down her spine, and she found herself wondering if she was doing the right thing. An instant passed during which she was sorely tempted to leave off, to just put everything away and go read by the fireplace in the other room. Then she remembered _why_ she was doing this in the first place: She needed advice, needed it urgently, and this was the only way she could get it without having to travel to the other side of the world.

Her resolve hardened, Catherine sat down on the edge of bed.

One by one she picked up three of the paper packets, broke the wax seals that held them closed. Inside the first packet was dried, crushed rose and jasmine petals. The second packet contained crushed poppy seeds and incense. The third contained dark flakes of dried blood.

Carefully Catherine reached into each of the packets and removed pinches of their contents, sprinkling them on the mirror and the candle above it. Some landed in the candle's flame; within moments the air was filled with the faint smell of something burning, the sweet smell of... something else... Catherine didn't stop. Forcing herself to inhale what the candle's flame was producing, she continued to sprinkle pinches of the petals, the seeds, the blood over the mirror, the locket and the candle.

It wasn't long before her head started to feel light, soon followed by the rest of herself. Catherine was floating; she wasn't really sitting on her bed in her room. It all felt so far away, so unreal...

_Miranda..._ she thought dreamily. _I need you..._

Minutes passed and it became harder and harder to think straight, to concentrate on the task at hand. When finally her chin started to drop and her body jerk itself back to consciousness, Catherine decided that it was now or never. Otherwise she would merely fall asleep and all of this would have been for nothing.

Forcing her woozy mind to concentrate, she picked up the ivory-handled knife with her right hand. Holding her left hand over the candle, she quickly drove the blade of the dagger into its palm, through it and out the back. The pain shocked her back to full wakefulness. Fighting back tears, Catherine twisted the blade in her hand, watched the blood splash down on to the mirror, the candle. A lot of it fell onto the locket. The tainted air started to fill her brain again, cast its spell on her again. Very soon Catherine was fighting to keep her eyes open. Forcing herself to concentrate once again, she clenched her teeth together and ripped the dagger out of her hand. This time the pain did nothing to revive her.

The spell was cast.

For a moment Catherine groggily watched the blood run down the sides of the candle, watched it stain the mirror red. The pain in her hand was a vague throbbing that didn't seem to be a part of her at all. Her mind was open, images that she had blocked away centuries ago suddenly emerging to fill her vision... men on horseback... squish… ahahaha... women screaming, dying... a hole in the ground... ahahaha... a dead horse… rows upon rows of eyes staring down at her... pain...

Bright lights flashed around the edges of the images she saw. Then the world fell away, taking the images with it. The flashes condensed into a single bright light, which grew larger and larger and eventually filled the entire world, blinding her to everything else.

_Miranda__! _her mind screamed.

The light winked out and everything went blessedly dark...


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 17

It was dark here.

She couldn't see a thing. Neither could she hear or feel. She was gone from her body, her spirit detached from its house of flesh. She was here in this dark place. At the same time she knew that she did have a body, knew that she had not left it. But her spirit had indeed gone somewhere, to a dark place deep inside her mind. It was a little scary, but it would have been more frightening if she had been alone. But she wasn't alone. She could not see or hear her companion, but she sensed that she was… nearby.

_Miranda!_ she called silently.

_I am here, dear,_ answered a voice from the darkness, a voice close to her yet seeming to come from a place far, far away. It was a young voice, but at the same time it was old, wise. It was the voice of one who had seen countless millennia pass: Miranda.

_I don't know what to do!_ she cried desperately.

_You are talking about the Highlander?_ Miranda answered.

_Yes!_

_He is handsome, brave and kind. And he loves you. What more can you ask for?_

_I'm not asking for anything! This was not part of the plan! Methos is coming to do whatever he can to make the Robertses believe that I'm dead. And then we are going to go away, go underground and stay there for a very long time. Duncan MacLeod was not part of that plan!_

_You didn't know you would meet him when you set your plan in motion, Amién. But now you __have__ met him and your head __is__ turned, no matter what you say._

_But he's too young!_

_So? Love knows no age._

_Love doesn't even feature here! Why bring it up?_

_But it __does__, young one. Duncan MacLeod does love you-_

_Oh? Really?_ she asked sarcastically.

_He kissed you, remember?_

She was stunned. _How do you know __that__?_ she demanded.

_You forget my... __talents__, dear. Remember, I see... __know__... everything about other Immortals, where they are, what they do… You and the Highlander included._

_Then make him forget me!_

_You know I can't do that, dear. It's not in my power. And that __includes__ making you not being in love with him either!_

_What the hell are you talking about? I'm __not__ in love!_

Highly amused laughter filled the darkness. _If you're not in love, then why are we having this conversation?_

_I'm __not__ in love_, she said stubbornly. _I'm _confused_._

_Whatever you want to call it, dear._

_I repeat, I am not in love with Duncan MacLeod. Besides... Methos is coming. I can't very well tell him that he's come all the way for nothing! He'll go crazy!_

_I doubt that._

_He will. He won't understand._

_He might, if you tell him._

_You're not helping!_

_I'm trying, Amién. You're just not __listening__!_

_Then tell me what to do!_

_That I can't do, dear. You came to me for advice. I'm advising you. I can't __tell__ you to do anything, not if I'm not there to see my orders carried through... Be patient, young Amién. You've only just met the Highlander. Of course you're confused. And speak to Methos. He'll give you a man's perspective on this, even if it breaks his heart._

_That's exactly what I _don't_ want!_

_But it's a chance you'll have to take. Explain things to him. See what he says. Or you'll have two angry Immortal men going at each other with drawn swords, with you being the prize going to the victor._

She was silent for a while, thinking. She hadn't thought of that. _Oh dear_, she said quietly.

_Follow your heart, Amién, even if it leads away from Methos for a time. He'll understand._

_He's going to go absolutely mad…_

_Maybe. Maybe not. But speak to him. That's the only way you'll know for sure. But you'll have to make up your mind about him quickly. He is already in King's Lynn._

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. _Sorry?_

_I won't lie to you, Amién. Methos is already in King's Lynn, and he already knows about Duncan MacLeod. He is already puzzled about what he's seen._

_What?__ This isn't time for jokes, Miranda!_

_We must end this chat now-_

_But I only just called you!_

_We've been talking for longer than you think, dear. Besides… You shouldn't even be casting this spell! You're far too young!_

_You shouldn't have taught it to me, then!_

_Don't remind me. You __must__ go now. You're about to have company._

_Excuse me?_

_Duncan MacLeod is knocking on the nursery door, and Philip Roberts is getting up to answer it._

_What__?_

_You will need help getting to bed once this spell is broken. Good thing he's turned up. I'll unlock the door for him._

No_, Miranda!_

But Miranda's presence was retreating, and the darkness surrounding her started to pale, as if she were moving towards a light.

Then there was the sound of-


End file.
